


Catastrophic Wardrobe Failure

by JacquelineHyde



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Alfonse does not like being a present, Kiran has questionable methods of keeping the team safe, Leans heavily on Zacharuno's damage art, M/M, The Author Regrets Everything, Xander loves his Lilith Floatie, and far too long for what it is, this is completely ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-19 22:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacquelineHyde/pseuds/JacquelineHyde
Summary: In which a sinister plot is eventually revealed, two boys in love ogle each other shamelessly, and Summertime Beach Fun Xander is up for anything.





	Catastrophic Wardrobe Failure

**Author's Note:**

> Since I am a silly, silly person, this story...well, firstly, exists, and secondly, takes place in that magical hypothetical future point in canon when Zacharuno and Veronica are both on our side now, and we're all friends and everything is wonderful and nothing hurts, except for the looming threat of the main plot, which generally convinces everyone to have as many wacky shenanigans as they can in their down-time. If such blatant fingers-in-the-ears-and-loudly-singing disregard for the current canon situation bothers/annoys/enrages you, dear reader(s), please turn back now.

It takes Zacharias a good forty-five seconds of wide-eyed gaping to fully process the sight before him.

After all, it isn't every day that he returns in the early hours of the evening to the room in Askr castle given over to his use, to find that same kingdom's prince and heir resting peacefully on his bed, attired in several lengths of artfully arranged red ribbon and a strategically placed bow in lieu of actual clothing.

Once his mind fully catches up with what he's seeing, he concludes that it must be a sign. After all his years of pain and suffering at the hands of his father, his country of birth in general, and even his own mind thanks to the entity that had fought for control for so long, the universe finally loves him and wants him to be happy.

At the very least, it's a sign that his day has taken a sudden, sharp turn for the better.

Either way, he thinks, eyes drifting over the slight indentations created by bright red ribbon pulling tight across smooth, pale skin, it's a lovely surprise, and one that he fully intends to enjoy.

That is, he fully intends to enjoy it until Alfonse startles awake at the light touch on his cheek and struggles away, panicked and disoriented, leaving the pillow tacky with blood.

“Alfonse!” he calls, sharp with alarm, moving swiftly to catch the ribbon-bound love of his life as he shuffles right off the edge of the bed. “What happened?”

“Zach?” To his cautious relief, Alfonse relaxes into his arms with a perplexed frown as Zacharias lowers him safely to the floor and helps him into a relatively comfortable position, back against the side of the bed. “I can't believe the entire goal was to leave me in your room like this. He's going to feel so silly when he finds out that I would have gone along willingly, and rendering me unconscious to dress me like this was a completely wasted effort. Unless he just knocked me out for the fun of it.”

 _'Silly_ ,' Zacharias thinks curiously as he mulls over the more galling implications of Alfonse's slightly slurred rambling. _That's an interesting way to pronounce 'dead.'_

“And who is _he_?”

Alfonse eyes him warily.

“I...don't know if I should tell you while you're making murder-faces.”

“I'm not making murder-faces,” Zacharias scoffs, attempting to school his expression into something suggesting a stern talking-to for this mysterious assailant, rather than brutal dismemberment.

“No, those are definitely murder-faces,” Alfonse decides aloud, bumping Zacharias' shoulder lightly with his own. “Stop making murder-faces, I'm fine. I've gotten worse from pillow-fights with Sharena.”

That, Zacharias can believe. Sharena is just as ruthless with a pillow as she is with a spear, and somehow, manages to leave her opponents in a similar state of injury. He sighs, letting soft dark blue hair sift through his fingers, carefully avoiding the large patch matted with drying blood.

“Will you at least tell me what happened?”

“Will you untie me and give me some pants?” Alfonse counters, a little snippily.

Hastily, Zacharias moves to pull at the ribbons, and then stops as an idea forms.

“You'll get no pants until I get a name,” he says, sitting back on his heels, arms folded, meeting Alfonse's imploring gaze impassively.

After a moment of clear indecision, Alfonse sighs in resignation.

“Fine. Shamefully, I find that in this moment, I value pants over the safety of my allies. But Zach, I'm coming with you, and we need to take a moment to hear Prince Xander's reasons before doing anything rash. I'm sure there must be an explanation.”

“Prince Xander?” Zacharias repeats, frowning down the urge to find and throttle the man first and ask questions later. After all, he was an ally once, and has become so again, and generally, Zacharias is nothing but grateful that Veronica had someone to care for her safety and happiness while he had to be away. “Why would he do something like this?”

“I don't know, Zach, he didn't exactly sit me down to explain it to me. He just charged into the library and challenged me to single combat, declaring that were I to win, I could name my prize, but were I to lose, I would agree to wear _this_.” Arms still pinned to his sides, Alfonse nods down at his fetching little ribbon getup. “I told him that the world would end several times over before I would agree to that, and he said that I had best win, then, and ordered me to draw my weapon. I tried to explain that I don't typically bring Folkvangr to the library with me, or the Brave Sword+, or the Slaying Edge+, or the Wo Dao+, or--”

“Kiran does love to shower you with sharp, pointy gifts, don't they?” Zacharias notes, shaking his head.

“Yeah, it's a little embarrassing, but at least they're not knitting me hats with cat ears anymore. So, I tried to explain that I was unarmed, but Prince Xander kept advancing and swinging that dragon-shaped pool floatie he thinks no one knows he sometimes talks to, so I had no choice but to defend myself. Throwing books, as it happens, is not a reliable form of defense. Especially when you try to quickly skim through each one first, to make sure you don't accidentally throw anything really good. He was able to deflect each flying book with ease, and...well, you know what happened then.”

Zacharias holds up a hand.

“Hold on, he knocked you unconscious with a flotation device?” He can't imagine how a pool toy could fell his small but surprisingly sturdy friend. In their years training together, both before he left Askr and since he's returned, he's seen the Askran prince just sort of shrug off a lot of things that by all rights should have left him in an unmoving heap on the ground.

“No, of course not,” Alfonse scoffed. “He _hit_ me with the flotation device, several times. It didn't do any actual damage, just sort of bounced off with a silly _doink_ sound, so eventually he tossed it aside and took up a chair instead. When I saw the chair, I tried to tackle him to the ground, but...” Zacharias raises an eyebrow as Alfonse trails off into embarrassed muttering, cheeks bright pink.

“Sorry, my love, what was that?”

“He was in a swimsuit,” Alfonse repeats miserably. “I'm a little uncomfortable jumping on half-naked men, you know.”

Despite the blood drying on the pillow, despite the telltale way that Alfonse is trying not to move his head too quickly, Zacharias can't help but grin.

“That hasn't been my experience.”

“I thought it went without saying that it's different when it's you,” Alfonse says primly. “Now, if you'll help me out of these ribbons and hand me some pants, we can go find Prince Xander and make sure he isn't being controlled by some malevolent and ridiculous outside force.”

Decisively, Zacharias scoops Alfonse up off the floor, settles him comfortably back on the bed, pulls a blanket up over him, and drops a light kiss on his forehead.

“As soon as I find out the full story, I'll be sure to share it with you. For now, get some rest.”

“Hey!” Alfonse calls, his desperate outrage punctuated by a loud thump as he tries to scramble off of the bed and onto his feet, and instead rolls off the edge and lands facedown in the thankfully soft carpet. Ever persistent, he starts towards the door in an awkward sort of armless wriggle that seems to involve repeatedly arching his spine and shoving his backside into the air. “I was promised pants!”

For a long moment, Zacharias can only watch, fascinated, but he's granted himself a short window of opportunity here. It won't be long before Alfonse remembers that he does, in fact, possess the upper body strength necessary to snap the cheerfully festive decorations that bind him. He may tend to be a little muddled immediately upon waking, especially when possible head trauma is involved, but it rarely lasts more than a few minutes.

With a feeling of great personal sacrifice, Zacharias drags his eyes away.

“I never explicitly promised anything,” he points out mildly before ducking out the door amid a burst of creative cursing that Zacharias can't decide if Alfonse more likely learned from Kiran or from Commander Anna.

Towards the end of the corridor, he hears the telltale uneven footfalls of someone running and dressing at the same time. A quick glance over his shoulder reveals that Alfonse has taken the liberty of raiding his wardrobe for the first available garments, and is hopping determinedly along on one foot while trying to get the other through the far-too-long pants, equally too-long sleeves flapping merrily in the breeze, so Zacharias rounds the corner and picks up speed.

It doesn't take long to locate Prince Xander, in one of the common areas where some of the Heroes like to gather on evenings free of patrol, guard, or kitchen clean-up duty.

Zacharias pauses for a moment in the doorway to calm himself, for despite his lingering anger, despite the impression he's probably given Alfonse by leaving him behind, he has no intention of doing anything violent. There's nothing to be gained by harming or alienating his sister's first close friend in as long as he can remember, and anyway, the crown prince of Askr, wielder of Folkvangr and all of the other tokens of Kiran's blatant favourtism, is perfectly capable of doing his own violence.

(As the current situation demonstrates, this in no way stops Zacharias from bursts of protectiveness, anymore than Veronica's aptitude for self-defense-and-then-some, or Sharena's ever-growing aptitude for poking things with sharp sticks, stops him from similar protective instincts towards them, much to Veronica's occasional annoyance and Sharena's perpetual amusement, especially now that her skill with a lance has grown to completely eclipse his own rusty manhandling of his previous weapon of choice.)

But he wants to know exactly what happened, and make damned sure that it never happens again, whatever perfectly reasonable explanations he may learn, and it'll be a lot easy to accomplish that without Alfonse hovering at his side, chiding him to _be nice, Zach._

“Prince Xander!” he calls once he's managed to map out a version of this conversation that doesn't begin and end with himself hitting the future king of Nohr in the face with a chair, just to see how he likes it.

“Prince Bruno,” the man greets with a worried frown, setting his book aside and standing. “Is something the matter?”

“I'm afraid so. I heard from a reliable source that you were the one who knocked Prince Alfonse unconscious and left him in my bed, dressed in ribbons, and I would like to know why.”

Prince Xander stares blankly.

“I...did what?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Zacharias sees Alfonse skid to a halt beside him, nearly tripping over the hems of his borrowed pants.

“Zach--”

He lifts a hand to stall whatever protest Alfonse is planning to make, keeping his hopefully intimidating glare on Prince Xander.

“You heard me.”

“Yes, of course I heard you,” Prince Xander retorts, arms folded defensively, “but understanding is something else entirely. What possible reason would I have to do something like that?”

“That's what I've been wondering since I found him.”

“You'll have to seek your answers elsewhere, Prince Bruno, for I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“It was earlier today,” Alfonse reminds him, stepping forward and shoving away the arm that Zacharias has instinctively raised to guard him. “You came storming into the library in a swimsuit, ordered me to take up my sword, and started waving a pool toy at me. I didn't have a sword, so I threw books at you, and you hit me with a chair.” He makes an anxious little noise. “Do you really have no memory of it?”

Prince Xander, who has been listening to this brief explanation, eyes narrowed thoughtfully, shakes his head.

“None whatsoever, but that doesn't necessarily mean it didn't happen as you say. You're sure I was in a swimsuit, and carried a pool toy?”

Zacharias hides a smile as Alfonse casts a look of flat, annoyed disbelief at Prince Xander.

“Does that seem like the kind of detail I would bring up if I wasn't sure? I don't particularly _want_ to sound like a crazy person.

“Relax, Prince Alfonse,” Prince Xander says sternly. “No one is questioning your sanity. I think I understand what happened.”

“Oh, no,” Alfonse groans. “It's possession, isn't it? I was mostly joking about that, but it looks like the malevolent and ridiculous outside force is real after all. Zach, we need to act quickly. Prince Xander, I'm sorry to ask, but will you agree to a brief period of confinement until we can deal with this? We'll be as swift as possible, but with everything else happening right now, we can't afford to take the risk that this malevolent outside force will escalate from ridiculous to truly dangerous.”

“If it comes to that, of course I'll agree,” Prince Xander shrugs, “but I doubt it will. If I'm right, it's far simpler than possession. This is nothing more than a case of mistaken identity, and I believe I may know the man you're looking for. I'll bring him to you right away.”

He turns to do just that without waiting for a reply, and once he's safely out of earshot, Alfonse leans in close to Zacharias.

“I feel like that's exactly what a malevolent and ridiculous outside force would say to lower our guard before striking.”

“Hey,” Zacharias admonishes gently, giving Alfonse's shoulder a quick squeeze. “Not every situation involves possession. Six or seven out of ten at the most. Let's see where this is going, before jumping to conclusions.”

Where this is going, apparently, is into an empty corner of the room, where Prince Xander begins methodically removing and setting aside first his armor, and then his clothing.

“Uh...” Zachaias objects eloquently.

“Uh...” Alfonse adds helpfully.

Once the last garment is neatly folded and tucked behind a potted plant, Xander reemerges, now clad in a swimsuit and a pair of sandals. As he approaches, he pulls a brightly coloured, vaguely dragon-shaped inflatable pool toy out from somewhere that Zacharias doesn't even want to contemplate.

“Prince Bruno, Prince Alfonse. I understand that you were looking for me?”

“What—what just happened?” Alfonse demands, sounding slightly faint. “Zach, are you seeing this too, or did that chair hit me harder than I thought?”

“No, I'm seeing this too,” Zacharias confirms, fixing the swimsuit-clad Nohrian prince with a wary eye. “Prince Xander--”

“Ah, I'll stop you right there. I've been told that the resemblance is striking, but I am not Prince Xander of Nohr. I am Summertime Beach Fun Xander, and I'm up for anything.”

“Uh...okay,” Alfonse agrees hesitantly. “And you're...the one who attacked me with a chair in the library and left me in Zach's bed?”

“Yes,” Summertime Beach Fun Xander replies without elaborating further.

“...Can I ask _why_?”

“Didn't you hear him?” Zacharias mutters, wondering how in the hell life has managed to get even stranger around here in his absence. “He's up for anything.”

Summertime Beach Fun Xander nods his agreement.

“While that is undeniably true, I was acting on behalf of a dear friend, who assured me that it was for the good of the team. I'm a little annoyed that I was only considered after Prince Xander refused – something about how _a future king cannot involve himself in such silliness –_ but reputation must be earned one step at a time, and with this success in the books, word will get around.”

Keeping a lid on his mounting impatience with some effort, Zacharias takes a deep, calming breath.

“Can you give us the name of this friend?”

“I don't know,” Summertime Beach Fun Xander says dubiously. “I don't think anyone expected you two to take it this badly. I'm not sure I feel comfortable knowingly directing your anger towards someone else.”

“Oh, for the love of—I am not making murder-faces!” Zacharias insists angrily.

Summertime Beach Fun Xander frowns, presumably because he hadn't actually said anything like that, but is effectively cut off from pointing this out when he's nearly bowled over by a wee little bundle of bows, ruffles, streaming blonde pigtails, and energy.

“Big brother!” Princess Elise exclaims reproachfully. “Were you going to go to the beach without me?!”

Summertime Beach Fun Xander peers oddly at his little sister.

“What? Elise, don't be silly. Why would I go to the beach? Do you know how much water there is in one of those places?”

“So apparently, Summertime Beach Fun Xander is up for anything, except the beach,” Alfonse notes.

Princess Elise crosses her arms and fixes her brother with a dubious eye.

“If you're not going to the beach, why are you dressed like that, huh? Oh, wait, is this about that thing we helped Princess Veronica with earlier?”

“Elise,” Summertime Beach Fun Xander sighs. “I'd hoped to keep her name – and yours – out of it.”

“Now, what are the chances you'll tell me why my sister asked you to do this?” Zacharias grumbles.

“You'll have to ask her yourself, Prince Bruno,” Summertime Beach Fun Xander replies. “She didn't choose to share her reasons with me.”

“Of course she didn't,” Zacharias announces, glancing over his shoulder. His intention of sharing a long-suffering look with Alfonse falls apart a little when he finds the Askran prince alight with quiet hope.

“I don't know if we need to, Zach. Do you think that maybe this was Veronica's way of saying that she knows about us, and giving us her blessing?”

Zacharias hesitates. Objectively, it's the dumbest thing he's ever heard. Yet at the same time, he can't quite bring himself to wipe that smile from Alfonse's face.

“That is...one possibility,” he finally decides upon. “In which case, I may need to sit her down and explain greeting cards as a concept.”

“Well, maybe she didn't think a card would drive home the message that she knows people who can make me disappear, and that if I hurt you, Prince Xander--”

“Summertime Beach Fun Xander,” that same lengthily-titled individual interrupts.

“Right, Summertime Beach Fun Xander will toss me into a lake wrapped in heavy chains, instead of into your bed wrapped in ribbons.”

“Well, I am up for anything.”

“Wait, hold on!” Princess Elise orders. “Does this mean you guys are together now?”

Alfonse stutters out a brightly blushing confirmation, and the youngest Nohrian princess makes a happy sort of squeak.

“Aww, that's so nice! I'm really happy for you guys! And I'm happy for Kiran – they're going to be so excited that their plan worked!”

Alfonse's face falls a little.

“Oh...it was Kiran's plan?

“Yup!” Elise confirms cheerfully, heedless of her brother's despairing sigh as the stain of responsibility spreads over yet another name. “They seemed really intense about it, too.”

“Huh.” Alfonse looks to Zacharias, still cautiously hopefully. “But if Princess Veronica involved herself in the first place, it must mean she at least sort of approves of me, right? Anyway, we won't know until we find her, so...?"

“Alright, let's go,” Zacharias sighs, bidding a silent and wistful farewell to the notion of wrapping this up quickly and enjoying a nice, relaxing evening, beginning with demanding that his boyfriend remove and return his borrowed clothing right away.

As the Emblian and Askran princes embark upon yet another leg of their quest, Summertime Beach Fun Xander turns to Elise.

“So...you still want to go to the beach?”

“Um, _obviously!”_

“Okay, let's go.”

“Really?!”

“Really. Go get changed, see if your sisters and Leo want to come, and meet me at the gates. I'll get the volleyball and some towels.”

“Yay! Big brother, Miss Charlotte was right – you're _way_ more fun without pants!”

 

* * *

 

“I suppose you're all wondering why you're here,” Zacharias says approximately twenty-three minutes later, eyes moving slowly over the assembled accused culprits on the other side of the table. At the light pressure on his hand, he sends Alfonse a quick smile and returns the squeeze.

“I'm here because I live here,” Sharena immediately announces, prompting a long-suffering sigh from her older brother, and a snort of laughter from Veronica, who promptly tosses out her own answer.

“I'm here because Surtr burned down our kingdom, and parts of it are still on fire. By the way, it would be really nice if we could do something about that, but by all means, Bruno, let's talk about your thing first.”

“I'm here because Anna shot me out of this here weird gun-lookin' thing,” Kiran announces, pulling the legendary weapon out from the voluminous sleeves of their robe. “If I'd had a choice, I would have asked her not to fire me directly into a stone wall, but hey, heat of battle and all, it was probably an accident.”

“Only the fact that she hadn't met you yet makes me believe that,” Zacharias mutters, rubbing at his eyes. “Let me rephrase: I suppose you're all wondering why I called you here, _to this room_.”

“Yeah, kind of,” his adorable and treasured little sister huffs. “I was in the middle of something really important, so someone had better be dead or about to give me cake.”

“No, and no.”

“Well, then, I suppose there's no reason for me to be here.” Veronica pushes her chair back from the table and stands. “If you'll excuse me...”

“Sit,” Zacharias orders sternly, and he must be getting better at this older-brother thing, because despite a long, gusty sigh, she drops obediently back into her chair. “How about this: you can _all_ leave, as soon as someone explains _this_.”

For a long moment, all three carefully study the small object dangling from his hand.

“That's a ribbon,” Veronica finally notes flatly.

“It looks like a ribbon to me, too,” Sharena agrees.

“Yup, definitely a ribbon,” Kiran adds helpfully.

“So it is,” Alfonse agrees, fixing Zacharias with a reproachful look. “You had time to double back for _that_ , but you couldn't grab me a pair of pants?”

“You have pants,” he points out absently, gesturing to the garment that Alfonse has been determinedly keeping up all evening with a death-grip on the waistband.

“Yeah, _your_ pants. You couldn't grab a pair of _my_ pants?”

“So, now that we all know what a ribbon looks like, can I go now?” Veronica breaks in.

“Of course, once you explain why you arranged to have Alfonse left in my room, unconscious, bleeding, and dressed in this ribbon.”

“Veronica! How could you?!” Kiran exclaims reproachfully.

“I never said he had to be unconscious _or_ bleeding! Things just got out of hand with the chair!"

“Kiran, don't even bother,” Alfonse sighs. “We know you were involved, too.”

“You can't prove that!”

Zacharias fixes them with a glare.

“My sister's hired muscle already sold you out.”

“Damn it, Summertime Beach Fun Xander!” the summoner hisses. “Next time I see you, I'm introducing your stupid Lilith floatie to the business end of a thumbtack!”

“So, why am _I_ here?” Sharena asks. “Did Summertime Beach Fun Xander sell me out, too?”

“Well, not exactly,” Alfonse admits. “I just kind of assumed you were involved.”

“What?!” Sharena exclaims, all wobbly eyes and trembling lip in an instant, and Zacharias silently salutes her ability to conjure tears of hurt on command. “Alfonse, how could you? My own brother!”

Alfonse fixes her with a skeptical eye.

“So, you weren't involved? Because I have to be honest, Sharena, a scheme that ends with me bleeding, in a stupid outfit, or both? That kind of has your fingerprints all over it.”

“Yeah, of course I helped – my friends needed me! Plus, it sounded really, really funny! But you still shouldn't just assume things like that!”

“Sharena,” Zacharias sighs. “You, of all people, know that your brother and I have been together for a few months now. Veronica, you too. Why would you both get involved in Kiran's stupid matchmaking scheme?”

Veronica starts to say something that he strongly suspects was meant to be _we were bored_ , but Kiran interrupts with an outraged noise.

“Hold on, you guys are already dating? Why didn't anyone tell me? Alfonse, why didn't _you_ tell me? I thought we were friends! I told you all about _my_ love life!”

Alfonse makes a face.

“In intimate, graphic detail; I remember. To this day, I still can't look Robin _or_ Robin directly in the eye.”

“Yeah, well, do you know how many times I accidentally touched your junk getting that bow on you?”

“How awful for you,” Alfonse grumbles, looking distinctly nauseous but not particularly surprised as Zacharias tries to breathe through the sudden, overwhelming urge to reduce Askr's population of Legendary Summoners from one to zero, although it is nice to know that the urge is entirely his own this time. “My 'junk' offers its sincerest apologies for getting in the way of your hands.”

“And now you're telling me that we could have avoided all that, if _someone_ wasn't literally incapable of confiding in his dear, dear friend?”

“It also could have been avoided if _someone else_ wasn't addicted to convoluted schemes!”

“It was for the good of the team!” Kiran snarls.

“How was the utter destruction of _my_ dignity beneficial to the team?”

“It's not about your dignity, Alfonse, it's about _his_ shirts!”

Zacharias raises an eyebrow as Kiran stabs an accusing finger at him, as Alfonse looks back and forth between them several times, a little more bewildered each time.

“Come again?” he finally manages.

By now, Kiran is in full-on dramatic mode, leaping from their seat, slamming their hands down on the table to emphasize each point.

“We did what we had to do to get your boyf to keep his damn shirt on during battle!”

Alfonse continues to look back and forth between Kiran and Zacharias, with no sign of understanding dawining any time soon.

“Again...please explain?”

Veronica, who has been watching the escalating argument between Alfonse and Kiran with avid interest, sighs in disappointment at Alfonse's return to fairly calm bewilderment, and gently pushes the summoner back into their chair.

“Okay, so you know how Bruno's shirts explode whenever he gets hit too hard?”

Alfonse automatically glances his way, and immediately goes bright pink.

“I, um, maybe have some recollection of it,” the Askran prince admits with a cough.

Sharena's poor attempt at holding back laughter gives out entirely, and she doubles over with giggles.

“Sure, Alfonse. Do you also _maybe_ remember almost walking into a lake the first time we saw it happen, because you too busy staring to watch where you were going?”

“Sharena!” Alfonse wails into his hands, so red that the glow is nearly visible through his fingers.

“Go on,” Zacharias orders tightly. Seriously, _that's_ what this is about? Sure, he gets that his tendency towards extremely dramatic battle damage is a little odd, but it's nothing compared to the ridiculous antics that the heroes summoned by the Order get away with on the regular. Attacking people with chairs while in swimwear, for instance.

If this simple, harmless personal quirk of his is the justification they're going with for the assault of a member of the Askran royal family...well, it's even flimsier than his shirts.

“Well, some of the pegasus knights and wyvern riders were starting to complain,” Kiran says, taking up the tale. “They're very susceptible to small, sharp objects, you know, and they were getting shot out of the sky by flying bits of your armor on a semi-regular basis. Just the other day, Marth came in and very politely threatened me with unspeakable horrors should Caeda be injured that way again. Then like three minutes later, Soleil came in and very impolitely threatened me with very much spoken, incredibly graphic horrors if I kept allowing harm to come to Palla, Catria, and Est, who are now apparently her cuties."

Zacharias winces guiltily. Okay, so _harmless_ may be the wrong word.

“Huh. I did not realize that was happening,” he admits. Generally, when his shirts get blown off mid-battle, he's too busy seeking shelter (and an ally with a travel sewing kit) to pay much attention to where the bits of his armor and clothing have ended up once they're no longer on him. Then, as a few more pieces of this puzzle of a situation start to slot into place, he frowns. “Hold on; is _that_ why so many of our allies have been looking at me like they expect me to attack at any moment? Because of the shirt thing?”

“Hey, don't say it like it's nothing!” Kiran protests. “Put yourself in Catria's place. Or Palla's. Or Est's. Or Cordelia's. Or—well, you get the picture. There you are, just minding your own business, flying around in happy little circles, singing happy little songs—”

“Um, what exactly is it that you think pegasus riders _do_ in battle, Kiran?” Alfonse pipes up hesitantly.

“--when all of a sudden, bam! A piece of armor knocks you clean out of the sky! You look for the devious mastermind, desperate to know the face of the enemy with the cunning to use a projectile that you wouldn't have thought to keep an eye out for, and lo and behold, it's no enemy at all, but one of your own! You just got shot out of the sky by your comrade-in-arms' flying button! Don't tell me that _you_ wouldn't have a hard time being pals after that!” They stop for breath, and raise a curious eyebrow. “Why? What did you think it was?”

Zacharias shrugs.

“I wasn't sure, but I did meet a lot of these people in the process of trying to kill them, so I thought that might have something to do with it.”

Kiran waves a dismissive hand, scoffing loudly.

“Seriously? Come on, dude, think about some of the people we have wandering around. Hello, the name Grima ring any bells? Our co-workers literally include Ylissean Satan, _and_ Ylissean Girl Satan, and you think people are stressing about _your_ loyalties? Our allies trust you just fine. It's the structural integrity of your shirts that they don't trust.”

“I don't know what you want me to do about it, Kiran,” he says, grumpily defensive even to his own ears. “It's battle; sometimes I get hit. Especially when a certain tactician of ours keeps sending me to stand next to the enemy, but forgets to order an attack of any kind.”

“That was one time!”

Kiran's protest falls on deaf ears, and Zacharias continues, building up a full, indignant head of steam as he goes.

“Should I stop showing up to battles? Should I carry around a tree to duck behind? Should I eliminate the issue by riding into battle topless?”

“Alfonse likes Option #3,” Sharena giggles, utterly unapologetic when her brother shoots her a weary look.

“I don't know, Bruno, maybe you could stop wearing your shirts three sizes too small,” Veronica huffs. “That would probably help.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!” he demands.

Kiran laughs in disbelief.

“Seriously, man?! With the amount of pressure those poor shirts are under from your bazillionty ab muscles, _of course_ it's going to lead to catastrophic wardrobe failure whenever you get hit by anything more serious than a light breeze. Which is why we did what we did. Where I come from, when a guy wears his shirts stupidly tight like that, it's to make his muscles look better, which brought up the question, who were you trying to impress?”

“And you immediately decided it was me,” Alfonse sighs. “Well, I guess I'm glad you didn't hide someone else in Zach's bed, half-naked, although my pounding headache feels differently.”

“Well, _obviously_ it was you,” Kiran snorts. “I mean, right before he angsty lonered off to find his murder-blood cure, he was all like, _Kiran, please take care of my darling Alfonse! Oh, and the others I guess, if you have time_.”

“I was not!” Zacharias protests, casting an imploring look at Sharena, who only grins. “I didn't say it like that.”

“I'm paraphrasing,” Kiran explains easily. "So, since no one bothered to _tell_ me that you were already a _thing--”_ The summoner casts an accusing eye on both Askran and Emblian siblings in turn. “--I thought that if we gave you a little push, got the ball rolling, as it were, he'd have no reason to show off his rockin' bod to you in the middle of the goddamn battlefield.”

Zacharias stares for a long moment, at a loss for words.

“I have a question,” he finally manages.

“Just one?” Alfonse mutters.

“How did you manage to drag Prince Xander into this nonsense?”

“We _didn't_ ,” Veronica replies. “I asked him, and he said that as much as he wanted to help me, as a future king, he couldn't possibly become involved in something so ridiculous. Then Sharena and I made big sad eyes, and he said _he_ couldn't help, but he knew someone who could, and he would go get them, just _please_ stop looking at him like that.”

“He also gave us cookies and hot chocolate,” Sharena adds.

“And then he went into a corner, stripped down to a swimsuit, pulled out an inflatable cartoon dragon, and introduced himself as Summertime Beach Fun Xander, right?”

“Yes, exactly!” Veronica replies, rather shocked. “How did you know that?”

“Just a guess,” he shrugs.

Kiran nods, impressed.

“Good guess.”

“I have a question too, if I may,” Alfonse says frostily. “Where did you come up with the idea that Zacharias would use the battlefield as a platform to boost his own ego, especially in a way that endangers his allies? It's completely ridiculous!”

“Fair enough,” Kiran shrugs. “So, let's let him explain why he _actually_ does it.”

“He doesn't owe you an explanation!”

“It's okay, Alfonse, I don't mind,” Zacharias assures him gently. “In all honesty, Kiran, the issue that's arisen with the pegasus knights is the very reason I started wearing my shirts this way in the first place. I just didn't consider the possibility that it would be so great a danger to allies as well as enemies.”

“Uh, _how_ would you not consider that?” Kiran asked, scratching their head through their hood, as though they were not the exact same tactician that insisted upon sending armored teams into situations with a definite time limit, or cavalry teams into heavily wooded areas.

“It started shortly after I left Askr, while I was travelling through worlds seeking a cure. Alfonse, one of your shirts accidentally ended up in my bag, and when my last shirt finally fell apart, with no money to acquire anything else, I wore it, even though it was far too small. I was attacked by a group of highwaymen that very night. One of them got the jump on me while I was contemplating the great torment of my existence, leaving me contemplating the arrow in my shoulder instead. I struggled to get my bearings, but just as I turned to fight back, tome in hand, another arrow hit me. Dizzy with pain, bleeding into the dirt, all I could do was watch as death approached in the form of an axe to the face. But then my accidentally acquired shirt, weakened by the hits I had already taken, gave out entirely, sending a burst of armor-bits flying in all directions, and instantly killing my attackers. From that day on, I've worn my shirts at least three sizes too small, because I never know when it may save my life again.”

Kiran, Veronica, and Sharena exchange looks ranging from uncertain to utterly incredulous, but when Zacharias turns to Alfonse, he finds him starry-eyed and adoring.

“What an amazing story,” he sighs, hands clasped. “Sharena, did you hear? _My_ shirt did that!”

“It was certainly a story,” Kiran mutters under their breath. “Look, I get it; we all have our bizarre habits that are bizarrely important to us, but the fact remains, I have to look out for my entire team. And you don't need exploding shirts to have your back anymore! You have a whole army of friends looking out for you! Well, half an army; the other half will come around when you stop shooting them or their loved ones out of the sky with your clothes.”

Hesitantly, Zacharias nods, conceding the point.

“I will miss the ease of undressing each night by lightly tapping myself on the shoulder, but I guess it's a small price to pay to avoid any further summertime beach fun attacks on Alfonse.”

“And further injuries to our pegasus and wyvern riders,” Kiran reminds him.

“...Right, that too.”

“Great,” Veronica yawns. “Now that we have that sorted out, can we have that cake you promised, Bruno?”

“I literally never said a word about cake. Except that there wasn't any.”

Before Veronica can voice her displeasure with this statement, Sharena wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Don't worry, I know where we can get some cake.”

“Well! I'm glad to see that _someone_ around here has their priorities straight.” With a significant look at both Zacharias and Alfonse, Veronica sweeps out of the room on Sharena's arm.

“Guys, wait!” Kiran calls, scrambling after them. “I want cake too!”

“So, since I bled all over your pillows,” Alfonse begins, peeking up at him with a shy grin once the last footsteps have faded, “I think it's only right that I open my bed to you. I can't promise anything too acrobatic until I visit a healer, but after that...”

With an answering grin of his own, Zacharias grabs Alfonse by the hips and pulls him close.

“Hi,” he greets. “I'm Bedtime Slumber Party Zacharias, and I'm up for anything.”

 


End file.
